Think of England
by Aurora-swan
Summary: Arthur turns oddly English when he's sick. Eames is amused. Sickfic, nightmares.


First fic in the Inception-fandom! How could I avoid Eames/Arthur for this long? I don't know. Now I'm in it and I don't think I'll leave soon.

Warnings: Sickfic, nightmares.

My forever passion for sicfics continues.

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><p>There were shadows and lights. The forever presence of something, still nothing. The feeling of someone staring, yet the creeping loneliness. The room was windowless and small. The walls were moving closer, the air was becoming thicker, the temperature was sinking. Everything was just wrong and he placed himself in the corner. This was a dream and he knew it. Still he couldn't change it.<p>

A crack, loud as a gunshot, punched through the thick, dark wall. A groan was heard. It was threatening, blinking lights and slamming. The room was rumbling, moving. Breathing. Living. The crack was growing, swallowing itself and spreading the feeling of pure terror.

With a huge breath he left the room, sitting up in bed so fast he could feel something crack in him. The breath burnt his lungs and he grabbed the sheets with a strong grip. Not letting go.

Beside him, Eames opened his eyes. In the darkness he could see his partner sitting as straight as a pole, shivering with beads of sweat glimmering in the light form the street.

"Arthur?" he croaked and reached out to place a soft hand on his shivering shoulder. "You okay." His hand must have appeared to be as hot as fire as he touched Arthur's skin. The man uttered a sobbing yelp as he tossed himself out of the way, legs tangling in the sheets as he fell over the side. Eames was now fully awake and flew up from the bed just as the loud thump of Arthur hitting the floor was heard. "Arthur!" He scrambled over the bed and saw in horror how the poor man crawled across the floor, towards the cold wall where he curled up like a small child. Chest was heaving painfully, his hair was plastered to his forehead and his skin prickled in goosebumps. The dark eyes were staring emptily into nothing and Eames felt his stomach twist in worry.

"Christ." he gasped as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Darling? What happened?" The sound leaving poor Arthur were far beyond human. His breaths had turned into painful moans and Eames fell to his knees beside him just before he started to sob into his shaking hands. "Hey, hey! What's wrong, love? What happened?" A loud, long cry forced it's way up his throat as Eames reached out to pull him close. Wrapping his warm hands around his arms, he brought him to his chest and Arthur's head landed heavily upon his shoulder. "It's alright." he whispered and carded a hand through his sweaty hair. "Everything's okay." He reached out and turned on the lights to have a good look at his partner who was hyperventilating painfully between sobs. The level of anxiety was had reached the highest and beyond. Poor Arthur was shaking in both fear and from the cold air in the flat and Eames wrapped himself around him to give him the small amount of warmth he could afford.

They stayed like that until Arthur was either to tired to cry or had calmed down a bit. He was still clinging to Eames. The sobs might have turned quieter, but they were heavier, laboured and Eames listened to the wheezing of the air leaving his lungs.

"I'm cold." Arthur groaned suddenly and relaxed a bit into Eames touch like he finally was accepting reality. His eyes slipped closed now when he was wake enough to calm down, and a long breath left his cramping lungs. "Oh god, I'm so cold." He really was; hands were out of control and he seized to cry now when his brain started to contemplate what was happening around him. The painful whimpers of his breath got worse as he looked up at Eames with pleading, swollen eyes. "Eames..." He was soon wrapped up tight in a duvet, but something didn't seem right. The edges of the world were fuzzy, the air was thin, Eames didn't look right either. The was something off, something not quite... familiar. With a moan he let Eames place his hand to his forehead.

"Oh, darling." the man sighed sadly and pressed a kiss to his sweaty temple. "You're burning up." He rubbed his cheek with his thumb and took a good look at him. "Was it a bad dream?" Arthur moaned and blinked, not quite sure. Maybe it had been a dream, maybe the room around him had actually threatened him but then again Eames would have noticed it too. He was a heavy sleeper though.

"I don't know." he sniffled miserably as his short pondering hadn't led him to anything sane.

He was a mess. Eames had known him for a long time but he'd never seen him like this. Skin was blushing red, sticky and burning; eyes was glossy and empty. Everything was just wrong and Eames felt as his heart had been crumpled like a piece of paper. This was not like it should be.

"It feels like my fingers are falling off." Arthur cried suddenly and held up his shaking hands. "Oh god." He knew how insane he must sound. As he stared at his fingers he knew that they remained the same. But he could feel them growing into an impossible size. They were loose; like they were not attached well enough to his knuckles and if he wiggled them they would fall to the floor like fat sausages.

"They're just numb." Eames said and wrapped his own around him. As gentle as he could he rubbed his slender fingers, warmed them and forced the blood to return and Arthur stared dumbly as he did so. "I'm gonna fetch you some paracetamol and the thermometer. Hopefully that'll help." Once again Arthur moaned, his head falling forward until it rested against Eames collarbone. Some sensation started to return to his hands, but in his mind they would start growing once Eames let go of them. He losing them was inevitable.

"I feel like shit." he mumbled tiredly and Eames found himself smiling. It was the first time Arthur had ever confessed to not being perfect.

"I can understand that, darling." he whispered and wrapped his arms around him. "Up we go." Suddenly Arthur left the floor. His feet dangled and his head lolled on Eames shoulder as he carried him back to bed. The man placed him gently upon the soft bed and wrapped him in both of the duvets while Arthur himself moaned in pain. His head was about to explode, his whole body ached like he'd just taken a beating. Arthur had felt bad before. But this took the price of all the illnesses.

"I'm getting the thermometer." Eames whispered and stroke his sweaty hair, gave him a look of motherly instincts that woke something in Arthur he hadn't felt since before he moved out from his mom's house. It was odd, bit sweet. Eames smiled warmly and kissed his 'fat' fingers."I'll be right back. Would you like some tea?"

"I'm american, you git." Arthur moaned. Eames grinned.

"I'll agree to that when you start to curse like one." he promised and left poor Arthur smirking with his pounding headache.

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><p>The fevered bloke was already asleep when Eames returned. His breathing was shallow and strangled and Eames sat down on the bedside before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.<p>

"Arthur?" he murmured and shook him carefully. "I'm gonna take your temperature." Cracking and eye open he eyed Eames with deep rooted confusion. This made the worry return to his guts once more. "Are you with me?"

"My fingers are about to fall off." he mumbled and blinked away a couple of heavy tears. The world around him had turned more strange. Eames seemed strange. Almost frightening. The air seemed heavy and burning, and the dark window hid secrets that shouldn't be shown to mankind at their young age. Not even Eames' smile seemed safe anymore.

"I know. I brought some paracetamol. It'll help." He fed him the pills while he cried in despair. Let ting him sip water out of a straw like a sick bird he could already tell that the fever was rising. It looked like he wanted to scream, run and fight his way out of this room. But after all, Arthur didn't even have the strength to lift his own head.

"I don't know what's happening." he confessed while he cried and let out a small whine as Eames shoved the thermometer under his tongue again.

"I'm not surprised, love." his boyfriend smiled and stroke his hair again. "You're burning up."

"I'm really sick."

"You'll feel a bit better once those pills takes." The seconds passed and Arthur sucked the thermometer between his lips, holding back the wrecking sobs. His breathing turned into small whines as Eames snatched the thermometer out as it beeped.

"40,3." he mumbled and gave a tut. "I'll have to keep an eye on you." Arthur mumbled something incoherently before he started to shiver again. "Any other symptoms than just your fingers?" A long sigh left his partner as he started to calm down. Thinking about his illness and now the proof of fever made him feel like he had some control.

"Headache." he croaked after a few second of searching. "It feel like I've taken a beating with mighty Thor." Eames laughed loudly at that and Arthur winced. A weak smile had scared off the heavy tears and a calm had settled in the room like a soothing mist.

"Mighty Thor?" he questioned and couldn't help himself as he leaned down to press a loving kiss to Arthur's hairline. "I didn't know you were into marvel?"

"It's ancient mythology, you arse." Arthur said angrily and frowned as his own loud voice caused his head to pound. "It's common knowledge. You should know. The vikings colonised you."

"You do keep forgetting that I don't read very well." Eames smiled and climbed over him to crawl down under the cover. He wrapped his arms around his burning body and held him close. Poor Arthur pressed himself even closer to steal his warmth.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Turning more english, darling." Eames giggled and reached for the controller on his nightstand. "Would you mind if I turned on the telly?" Without waiting for the answer, he turned it on and tuned in on a marathon of QI and he would never tell Arthur about his secret crush on Steven.

"Oh, lord." Arthur moaned and cracked an eye open. "What is this?"

"Quite interesting." Eames answered with a smile and wrapped their legs together. "A comedy science show. I think you would like it."

They watched it for a few minutes it didn't take long before Arthur let out a tired laugh. The blue whale certainly seem to do it and as the warning "wrong" sound started to ring he laughed even more.

"If this is humour in England I'm moving back home." he whined and closed his eyes again.

"What? So you can watch Americas funniest home videos?" Eames questioned and turned his head to take Arthur's temperature with his lips. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful." Arthur answered simply and let out a wheezing breath. "Everything aches." Eames rollsed over on his side and wrapped himself around him like a squid.

"You're sill burning." he whispered and rubbed his neck. "If it doesn't go down soon I'm afraid I'll have to do something about it."

"Don't you dare drown me." Arthur moaned, letting out another wheezing breath that sounded rather painful. With a frown, Eames placed his hand on his forehead and held it there for a moment. To his fright Arthur was getting warmer.

"I'll get you another paracetamol, okay?" he said and climbed out of the bed. "I'll be right back." Arthur cried out as the heat of Eames left him and he crawled up into a tight ball under the cover to keep some of the warmth.

Time must be flying past him, because the same second Eames had left he was suddenly standing beside him. The next thing happening was not as pleasant as his presence. Cold. Everything was so cold and he flailed his arms to get away only to get a grip around Eames wrist. He held him hard enough to bruise.

"Arthur. Arthur!" Eames shouted worriedly and pressed the cold flannel to the side of his neck. "I have to cool you down. The pills aren't working."

"You haven't even given them to me.." Arthur cried, desperately moving away from the chill.

"I gave them to you over an hour ago, darling. It's either this or the hospital." Eames said sadly and sat down on the bedside. "C'mon, love. You'll feel better in a bit."

Arthur actually cried, which made Eames' insides turn. It was the first time he'd seen Arthur sick and it was not pleasant. Usually, when Eames himself was sick, it was a full blown man's cold. But this kind of fever he hadn't seen since his sister had her kissing decease. That hadn't bothered him. Seeing Arthur like this, on the other hand, was something of the worse.

"Darling?" he whispered when the grip around his wrist weakened.

"My fingers are falling off." Arthur cried and yelped as the flannel pressed to his chest. The water was traveling in droplets over his shivering body, soaking the mattress beneath him and making a good job at chilling him down. "Eames." It was the most pathetic sound that had ever left Arthur's mouth. Eames had to hold back the small laugh bubbling in his throat.

"They're just numb." he whispered and took his hand, rubbed his knuckles with his thumb and winced at how cold they were. "I'm gonna warm them up in a mo, okay." Arthur hummed sadly.

The man blinked tiredly on the bed. Teeth were chattering while he small, whimpering sobs fled his dry lips. Time passed slowly, and the cold water was agonising yet giving him a small amount of relief. It didn't make any sense. Arthur liked sense!

Blinking heavily he could see Eames face hoovering above him. He seemed less scary and more warm. Arthur was soon to recognise him and as the minutes passed this flat started to feel like home again. He landed with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. Ready to go back to sleep.

"Arthur." Eames whispered and kissed his cramping fingers. "I'm right here." Arthur opened his eyes again and stared long and emptily. "Are you with me?" He nodded and accepted the thermometer under his tongue again.

Soon enough, the forever missed feeling of sense stared to return. The corners of if eyes became less fuzzy, Eames touch didn't burn as much and the cold water seemed to become warmer. Maybe his temperature had done that bit but at least he wasn't freezing to death anymore. Things was suddenly a bit clearer. Arthur found himself thanking the book of home health care.

"Eames." he sighed as the tasteless plastic left his mouth.

"38.2." the man smiled as he saw the tiny numbers. "That's something we can deal with." He placed it aside and dropped the flannel back in the bowl of lukewarm water. "As a doctor I say acceptable." Arthur grinned tiredly at that and closed his eyes as Eames pressed his lips to his forehead.

"You're a cock." he hissed and tilted his head so he could have those lips pressed somewhere else, soon enough he was swallowing one of Eames' giggles.

"And you turn very english when you're sick." he smiled and pulled back to gaze lovingly at his boyfriend.

"You've infected me." Arthur croaked. "After all, you fooled me into moving to England."

"And I'm sure you'll get back at me." Eames grinned and brushed some wet strands of hair from his forehead. "You dick." That made Arthur frown. Hearing the harsh american accent in Eames mouth was just wrong and he gave his head a small shake.

"You swearing might be a turn on." he said. "But that was terrible." Eames agreed but smiled happily none the less, crawled on top of Arthur as the man wrapped his arms around him. A small 'umfh' was uttered as he placed all his weight upon him.

"Look who wants cuddles." Eames practically sang as he nuzzled his nose behind Arthur's ear. "Is this the fever talking or has the stick of prudeness left your arse."

"Sod off." Arthur sighed and Eames laughed into his neck.

"The next time you spread your legs you'll think of England." he whispered. Arthur practically growled.

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><p>Thank you for reading! Thoughts?<p> 


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